


Won't You Come On Home

by damnfancyscotch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Human, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Sterek Secret Santa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnfancyscotch/pseuds/damnfancyscotch
Summary: “Merry Christmas.”Derek glances over and automatically replies, “Merry Christmas.” Then he does a double take.It’s Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.Stiles Stilinski, standing in his family’s kitchen, barefoot and wearing sweatpants and a white tank top and making himself a cup of coffee.Derek sputters, “What the hell are you doing here?”Stiles, still so very cool, stirs his coffee and laughs, sleep-rumpled and clearly comfortable. “I live here.”“Here?”“Yeah, dude, for like, the past three years.” Stiles shakes his head and ambles out of the room, pausing in the doorway. He gives Derek a once-over and adds, “It’s good to see you home again, Derek.”





	Won't You Come On Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fearfrost1211](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearfrost1211/gifts).



> Happy Holidays!! :)

It’s not that Derek doesn’t love his family, but he’s got reasons for not wanting to go home for the holidays. Legitimate ones.

It also doesn’t help that he hasn’t set foot in his childhood home or town since the day he left for college, though various family members have visited him a few times over the years.

Also, his family is filled with a bunch of busy-bodies. Then again, so is the town, but that’s the way small towns work, so he should be used to it. It still annoys him.

This year, though, he’s officially run out of excuses and his mom has made it very clear that she expects him home by Sunday morning, at the latest.

So here he is, driving through the streets of Beacon Hills, noting how everything is vaguely similar but just different enough to make him feel on edge.

It’s been three and a half years since he’s been home, after all. And if everything goes well after graduation, it may be longer than that until the next time he returns.

When Derek gets to the fork in the road, he chooses the smaller and unpaved path to the right, instead of the fancier one to the left that leads to the Inn that his family owns and runs.

The gravel of the driveway crunches under his feet as he gets out of the car and he notices that there’s wind chimes all over the front porch now, for some reason. He doesn’t bother pulling out a key and almost bashes his face on the door when he finds that it’s locked. He scowls as he gets the spare key and lets himself inside.

He drops his bag by the door and moves down the dark hall into the kitchen. It’s early enough that he’s the only one up so he stands there for a while, staring out over the yard and into the trees, noting the way the world seems to be waking up as the sun slowly rises. The coffee pot turns on via timer and starts burbling happily away beside him.

Eventually, someone walks into the kitchen behind him, moving toward the coffee and fixing a cup. After a moment, they say sleepily, “Merry Christmas.”

Derek glances over and automatically replies, “Merry Christmas.” Then he does a double take.

It’s Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles Stilinski, standing in his family’s kitchen, barefoot and wearing sweatpants and a white tank top and making himself a cup of coffee.

Derek sputters, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Stiles, still so very cool, stirs his coffee and laughs, sleep-rumpled and clearly comfortable. “I live here.”

“ _Here_?”

“Yeah, dude, for like, the past three years.” Stiles shakes his head and ambles out of the room, pausing in the doorway. He gives Derek a once-over and adds, “It’s good to see you home again, Derek.”

And with that, he leaves Derek in the kitchen: confused, irritated, and maybe a little turned on.

His mom and dad come into the kitchen a few minutes later, his mom squealing with delight when she sees him.

“My baby!” she croons, enveloping him in a tight hug.

“Hi, Mom.” He relishes in the embrace, squeezing her tightly and pressing his face to her neck.

“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, pulling back and rubbing her hands over his shoulders.

“Missed you too.” He squeezes his dad harder when they hug, grinning as his old man lets out an ‘oof’. “Hi, Dad.”

“Good to see you, son.”

His mom moves around the kitchen, turning the lights on and starting on breakfast.

Derek pulls up a seat at the breakfast bar and tries to say off-handedly, “So, you didn’t tell me that Stiles lived here.”

“Sweetheart,” his mom says as she whisks eggs, “he’s lived here for three and a half years.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that.”

His dad grabs the newspaper and instantly pulls out the crossword. “We told you that we hired someone to work at the Inn right after you went to school.”

“Well, that could have been anybody. How was I supposed to know it was him?”

His parents look at each other then back at him. “Is there some reason why we shouldn’t have him here?”

Derek doodles on the counter with his finger. “No.”

He’s saved from having to explain himself when Cora comes into the kitchen, followed by Laura.

“So, the Prodigal Son returns!” Cora crows, throwing herself at him.

“Hi, Brat,” he greets, giving her a noogie. “Still obnoxious, I see.”

“Ugh, you still suck, I see,” she mocks.

“Laura, will you make the bed up for Derek? The sheets should be dry now,” their dad asks, running through the crossword with scary efficiency.

“Sure.” She ducks into the laundry room and reappears with an armful of sheets. “Come on, dork.”

Instead of turning to go up the stairs to the apartment above the garage, they turn toward the inside of the house. “Where are we going?”

“Your old room is Stiles’ now, so you’ll have to take the guest room.”

His jaw drops a little. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “You were gone for over a year and he needed a room to sleep in. We couldn’t put him on the couch forever.” She seems like she’s about to say something else but she just elbows the door to the guest room open.

“Why not put him in here?” he mutters, setting down his bag and helping her make the bed. “And by the way, since when did he start working at the Inn?”

“Like, a week after high school graduation. Did you really not know?”

Derek shakes his head, taking the comforter when she shakes one end at him.

She hums then asks, “Why does it sound like you have a problem with it?”

“I don’t. I mean, it’s just…” Derek makes some sort of noise that can’t even be charitably described as words and finally shrugs.

Laura squints at him and says slowly, “Is this because you had a crush on him in high school?” At his confused look, she shrugs. “Cora mentioned it a while back.”

“I did  _not_  have a crush on Stiles in high school,” he protests.

She rolls her eyes and mutters, “Whatever.” She ruffles his hair. “It’s good to have you home, regardless of your ridiculousness.”

Derek scowls at her, patting his hair back into place as she walks off. She thinks she’s so smart because she’s the oldest.

And yeah, sure, Stiles was hot in high school and sort of a bad boy, in as much as he could be considering his dad was the Sheriff. And yeah, maybe Derek had a little bit of a crush on him.

But for Derek, it wasn’t about the hotness, though it was a plus. It was that Stiles was Stiles was Stiles. There wasn’t any falseness to him, not in the way he interacted with people or how he lived. He just… was.

When they were in high school, Stiles, who was generally kind of a dick, tended to be nice to Derek since their parents started working together on a campaign to cut down on teens drinking and driving.

Stiles had also grown out of the awkwardness that seemed to cling to him when he moved to Beacon Hills in sixth grade, all buzz cut and big eyes. He was stupid hot all of a sudden and it was a little hard for Derek to cope for a while.

But even after Derek’s “glow up” – Lydia’s words, not his – the Summer before Senior year, Stiles didn’t treat him any differently.

On the first day, Lydia and Danny had been teasing him about getting hot when he saw Stiles walking down the hall with Erica Reyes and Scott McCall.

Stiles greeted him the same way he did since the first day of Freshman year: a half-smile/half-smirk, a jerk of the chin, and a “Sup, Derek”.

At the time, he was relieved: at least someone was treating him normally. And sure, it was weird initially, realizing that people saw him as “hot”.

But now? He’s not the nervous seventeen-year-old he used to be. He’s twenty-two and he’s going to graduate from college in May. He pays taxes. He’s a damn adult!

God, but Stiles is even more attractive than he used to be and he’s living in Derek’s family’s house, looking  _very_  at home in those sweatpants…

Derek flops face-first onto the freshly made bed, deciding to wallow there until his mom calls loudly, “Breakfast!”

He heads downstairs and greets the rest of the family. Afterwards, he sits at the large table, passing plates amid early morning chatter that almost sounds the same as when he was growing up.

There’s just one little thing that’s different.

Watching Stiles interact with his family should be old hat for Derek, but it keeps throwing him off, the way Stiles is so integrated into the dynamic. Before, it was the courtesy that came from their parents’ professional collaboration. Now, it’s evident that Stiles is a regular fixture here.

Oliver, Peter’s son who used to love Derek when he was two, barely glances Derek’s way and heads immediately to Stiles, claiming the seat next to him at the breakfast table and eating only whatever Stiles also eats.

Derek’s mom rubs Stiles’ hair as she walks by and Derek’s dad claps him on the shoulder and Derek’s aunt Catherine comments that Stiles needs to hurry up on the crib he’s building for the baby that’s she’s pregnant with and Derek’s older cousin reminds Stiles of a joke and they all laugh.

It’s really fucking weird. It would likely be even worse if the rest of the family was here, but they’re probably at the Inn, cooking breakfast for the people staying there.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” Derek announces after he’s shoveled his eggs and bacon down.

“Why don’t you go with Stiles? He’s about to take a couple into the Preserve for a guided hike.”

“Uh,” Derek glances at Stiles who raises an eyebrow at him, sipping calmly from his orange juice, “okay.”

“Perfect. That way I can finish wrapping your presents.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He hugs her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” Stiles tells him, seeming content at the table even with Oliver now on his lap, eating off of Stiles’ plate.

Derek nods. He doesn’t flee the kitchen, no matter how much he wants to. He walks sedately upstairs and changes, heading back down in time to see Stiles finish his juice in one long gulp.

God, that neck.

Before he can embarrass himself, he clears his throat and Stiles grins up at him.

“Alright, Olly, I’ll see you for dinner,” Stiles tells Derek’s nephew, lifting the kid up and setting him down in the chair.

“Bye Stiles,” Oliver chirps, grabbing another piece of sausage and chomping happily on it.

Stiles jerks his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

They walk toward the Inn, instead of driving, and when they get half-way there, Stiles says, “I know you don’t wanna come with me on this hike. These people are wanting something easy and tame.” He smiles and jerks his chin toward the trees. “Take a stroll by yourself. Relearn the place. It’ll do you good.”

Derek blinks at him as Stiles continues to walk to the Inn. After a moment, he shrugs. It actually sounds like a good idea.

After walking on his own through the Preserve, he does actually feel better. He waits for Stiles on the front porch of the Inn and raises his hand in a wave when Stiles returns with a grinning young couple.

“Thanks for taking us out, Stiles,” one of the girls says.

“Hey, no problem. Give Andy a buzz if you need anything else. Dinner should be ready around six.”

“Sounds great,” the other girl says, giving a small wave as they go into the Inn.

Stiles turns to Derek. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“Sweet. I’m gonna do some maintenance stuff now. You can tag along or loiter here.” He says conspiratorially, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mom.”

Derek snorts, rolling his eyes.

As Stiles walks away, Derek thinks that maybe the holiday won’t be so bad after all.

\-----

After dinner, Stiles appears next to Derek in the kitchen. “Wanna come bowling with us?”

Derek tries to look like Stiles didn’t startle him, asking offhandedly, “Us?”

“Yeah, the other degenerates that never left town, for one reason or another.”

“Uh, sure.”

Stiles smiles, clapping Derek on the shoulder. “Don’t look so scared. They don’t bite.”

Derek isn’t so sure but he finishes the dishes and meets Stiles outside ten minutes later.

“Your chariot awaits,” Stiles announces, waving at the same blue Jeep he had in high school.

Derek rolls his eyes and climbs into the ratty old car. He’s a little worried that the heap of junk might not make it to the bowling alley, but sure enough, they arrive there safely.

“Have they changed this place at all?” he asks as he gets out, slamming the door to make it close.

“Nope.” Stiles comes around and grins up at the neon. “Same old shit hole it’s always been.”

Derek grins too. “Perfect.”

“Come on.” Stiles opens the door and walks through the flashing lights of the decrepit arcade machines and down a ramp into a massive area, pungent with the smell of wax and beer and fries.

Derek looks around and he almost stumbles when he sees who’s waiting for them.

Scott McCall and Erica Reyes stare as Derek and Stiles walk up to them. They’re just as daunting as they were in high school, though Erica is wearing slightly less leopard print and Scott is sporting a short hair-style and facial hair.

“I thought you said they didn’t bite,” Derek mumbles.

Stiles snorts. “Erica works at the National Park Service and Scott is the town veterinarian.” He raises his eyebrows at Derek. “She gives lectures on habitat conservation to elementary school kids and he saves puppies and kittens. They’re not exactly terrifying.”

Derek isn’t so sure, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“’Sup guys. You remember Derek?”

“Sure, hi,” Erica greets in a friendly tone, raising her cheek for Stiles to kiss.

“Hey dude, good to see you again.” Scott shakes Derek’s hand. He then turns and does some sort of complex handshake with Stiles. “Your turn to get beer.”

“I remember.” Stiles looks down at Derek’s feet. “What size shoe do you wear?”

“Uh, eleven.”

Stiles nods and walks away.

“So,” Scott prompts, “what have you been up to since high school?”

“Studying, mostly.” He shrugs. “Stiles told me you’re a vet and you,” he nods to Erica, “work with the National Park Service. That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah.” Erica waves her hand, rolling her eyes. “I have to be honest, this whole ‘catching up’ thing is weird for me. We didn’t really know each other well in school, so I’m not sure what to say to you.” She smiles, softening her words, and asks, “Can we just bowl and drink beer?”

Derek laughs, oddly pleased. “That sounds really great, actually.”

“Thank God,” Scott huffs, losing his stoic demeanor. His grin is easy when he admits, “I had no clue what to talk to you about.”

Stiles returns with the beer and Derek’s shoes and they all bowl. It ends up being more fun than he expected. Erica wins and Stiles and Scott bow to her, so Derek does the same.

She kisses his cheek as they all part. “I’ll see you around, Hale.”

“Later, dude,” Scott says, clapping his shoulder and hugging Stiles before he and Erica drive off.

Stiles and Derek end up at the dock that sits on the edge of the lake behind the Inn. There’s only two guests left and they’re leaving in the morning, so the property is quiet and dark.

After a few minutes, Derek tells Stiles, “Your friends are cool.”

“Yeah, I like them.” He takes a sip of his beer. “You still friends with Lydia Martin?”

“Oh, yeah. She actually just found out she got accepted to Princeton’s graduate school.”

“Damn.” Stiles shakes his head. “Smartest girl I’ve ever met. Scariest, too.”

“Lydia?” Derek asks, then he stops. “Actually, yeah. I can see that, if you didn’t know her.” He points at Stiles. “You and your friends, though. Talk about intimidating.”

“Seriously? Us? We were just a bunch of hippie tree huggers, getting high and playing with plants and animals in the woods.” He raises his eyebrows. “I’d think that you’d be one of the last people to be afraid of us.”

He huffs. “Yeah, well, high school was weird.”

“Truth.”

Derek nods and they fall into an easy silence, the lapping of water and rustling of small animals the only sound.

After a while, Stiles asks, “Why haven’t you been home for the holidays before this?” He glances at Derek and adds, “You can totally tell me to fuck off. I’m just curious.”

Derek shakes his head. “Well, for starters, I hate this time of year.”

“What?” Stiles sounds shocked. “Why?”

“It’s all commercial garbage.”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Stiles sits up straight, turning to look at Derek. “This is the most magical time of the year.”

“Why? Because of Santa?” Derek teases.

“No, because of renewal. It’s when darkness begins to turn into light and the return of the sun. It’s about feasting, a promise for another year of plenty. It’s a time for soul-searching, to look within one’s self and to look over the experiences of your past, and to plan for your future. It reminds us that the sun is eternal, the cycle is always renewing, and so are you.

“And,” he adds with particular emphasis, “it  _is_  about the gifts. It’s your chance to show gratitude and appreciation for your friends and family, for all they’ve done for you, the joy they’ve brought into your life over the past year.” Stiles adds casually, “ _I_  particularly enjoy getting socks and hoodies.”

Derek snorts, though there’s something about the way that Stiles talks about the holiday that makes it sound sort of appealing.

“So, now that that’s settled,” Stiles continues, ignoring Derek’s reaction, “what’s the real reason you haven’t been home?”

“Well, I’ve been doing overseas studies for the past couple of years.”

“Yeah, it was Ireland first, then Rome, and Spain last year, right?”

“Yeah. You kept track?”

Stiles shrugs. “I pay attention.”

“I’ve noticed,” he mutters.

When Derek makes no move to continue speaking, Stiles leans over and wheedles, “Cooome ooon… tell me why. Come on, Derek.”

“Ugh, fine!” Derek mutters, “My parents want to give me the Inn.”

Stiles blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve missed three years of some of the most amazing food I’ve ever eaten with some of the most interesting people I’ve ever met, because your family wants to leave you an incredibly valuable piece of land and business at some point in the future?”

“Yes. I know it sounds stupid, okay? I  _know_.”

Stiles scratches his cheek. “It’s not that it’s stupid, per say. I’m just a little confused, man.”

“Look,” Derek sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know my family wants what’s best for me and it was very generous for them to offer.”

Stiles nods, motioning for him to go on.

Derek rolls his eyes but keeps talking: “The fire that happened, during my Freshman year…”

“Yeah, it was rough.” Stiles makes a face like he’s remembering – which he does, Derek realizes, since he’s worked at the Inn since Derek left. “Luckily we didn’t lose too much.”

“I… the woman who set the fire… the reason she did was because of me.” Derek clears his throat, the words falling out of his mouth in a torrent. “I broke up with her because she was really intense, like obsessive, and I’d already told her where I was from and that my family owned an inn and if I hadn’t said anything, if I’d just kept my mouth shut, then she wouldn’t have done that. And what if… what if they give me the Inn and I end up fucking up somehow, like… I don’t know how, but…”

After he manages to shut up, Stiles studies him in silence for almost a full minute.

“Well, say something or stop staring at me,” Derek finally snaps.

“I was just thinking how much responsibility it is, to take over the Inn, especially if you’re not ready.” He hums, and adds, “I was also thinking that maybe you’ve been blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.” Stiles lifts one shoulder and drops it. “The way I see it: you didn’t make her start that fire.”

“Yeah, but where was I when it happened? I wasn’t here to support the family. And after that… coming back just seemed so… hard. Like, how was I supposed to face everyone, knowing that I’d put them all in danger?”

“So you decided not to come back at all?”

“It was easier.”

“For you, maybe. Your mom really missed you.”

“She may have been the only one,” Derek huffs, feeling a little pathetic.

“Nah,” Stiles shakes his head, “not the only one.”

Derek looks away, uncertain if he’s reading too far into Stiles’ words.

Stiles finishes his beer. “We should head back. Early morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, getting to his feet, casting one last glance over the quiet lake.

\-----

After that, Derek just sort of ends up spending time with Stiles, either during the day or after dinner.

On Monday, when the last guests leave for the season, Stiles shows Derek around the Inn, pointing out renovations and things that haven’t changed, like the doorframe where the growth of all the Hales have been measured for almost two decades.

Stiles watches as Derek runs his hands reverently over the numbers, pulling him away after a moment to show him the new library and the greenhouse.

On Tuesday, Derek states that he’s not sure that Stiles is really that much more connected to the Preserve than he is.

Stiles laughs at him and holds out his hand. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Derek’s stomach swoops and he reaches out, lacing their fingers together. “Bet.”

\-----

Thursday is the solstice. Once again, he and Stiles are on the dock behind the Inn.

Stiles softly points out how still the world is, how it almost seems to be holding its breath. He turns and smiles slightly at Derek, less than a foot away.

 _I could kiss him_.

Derek’s struck, in that moment, by how the only thing he can seem to hear their breathing and the slight rustle of cloth as Stiles raises his hand and flicks Derek on the nose.

Stiles snorts and the spell is broken, but the thought remains:  _Kiss him._

But Derek doesn’t, just laughs and fakes throwing Stiles in the lake.

It’s better this way.

\-----

On Christmas Eve, they all makes cookies and bring them to the police station – where Stiles’ dad is still the Sheriff – and the fire station.

Christmas is loud and noisy and filled with laughter and food and cheesy movies and Derek is struck by how much he’s missed all of it.

After dinner is over and everyone has piled in front of the television for another movie, Derek follows Stiles outside, the two of them sprawling on the grass and staring up at the sky.

Stiles scoots closer to Derek, shivering a bit even with his coat.

“Did you ever think about leaving Beacon Hills?”

Stiles laughs softly. “Well, yeah, of course.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“This is my home. My father is here; my friends are here.” Derek feels him shrug. “It’s where I belong.”

Derek wishes he had half the conviction about his future that he hears in Stiles’ voice. “I think… I could like living here again.”

“Missed the old place, huh?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I realized I did.”

“Life’s weird that way,” Stiles reassures him and knocks their feet together.

It makes Derek feel better, even as the tiny voice in the back of his head warns him not to get too comfortable.

\-----

Life is good the next few days.

But the peace is suddenly shattered when he gets an email from his potential new boss on Saturday night, confirming Derek’s employment.

“Important message?”

Derek jumps, almost throwing his phone, and whips around.

Stiles leans against the doorframe of the guestroom, arms crossed.

“Uh… yeah.”

Stiles studies him. “You’re not coming back after graduation, are you?”

Derek drops his eyes, shame curling in his stomach.

“Were you gonna tell anyone?” There’s no anger in Stiles’ voice, or judgement, which makes Derek feel even guiltier. “Or were you just gonna disappear for another few years and hope none of us noticed?”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

Stiles sighs, pushing off the doorframe. “Well I won’t tell anyone. But you probably should.” He shrugs. “Just, you know, think about it.”

Derek nods, his heart pounding as Stiles walks away.

It makes him wonder why Stiles was even in the hallway outside his room, what Stiles possibly could have been coming up to say. Or to do.

And how Stiles phrased his question: “none of  _us_ ” – he’d included himself in the list of people who would notice if Derek didn’t come back. It makes it even worse.

Derek rubs his face with both hands. “ _Fuck_.”

\-----

The next day, New Year’s Eve, Derek spends time with as many of his family members as he can. He helps his mom in the kitchen with the traditional food – black-eyed peas and spinach – and plays Scrabble with his dad. He helps Oliver turn his room into a fort and helps clean it back up again.

He even sits for a while with Peter who is even more perceptive than Stiles. Peter simply looks at him for a moment then states, “You’ll break more than one heart this way, but it’s your life.”

Derek flees shortly after.

Stiles, when Derek sees him, looks a little hungover, but he’s his usual mellow self. He even smiles slightly at Derek while they get the Inn ready for the giant party that the family always throws on New Year’s.

A ton of people show up: Scott with a pretty girl named Kira on his arm, Erica with a buff and smiling guy named Boyd that Derek remembers from high school, Sheriff Stilinski with Melissa McCall – Scott’s mother – and a myriad of other people from town.

Derek maybe drinks a few too many glasses of champagne. He’s not sloppy, but he’s definitely drunk.

As the countdown starts, he’s tucked against the wall, staring into his glass, when a pair of Converse show up in his peripheral. He looks up and sees Stiles.

“Hi,” he almost-whispers as people shout  _fifteen, fourteen, thirteen_ …

“Hi,” Stiles says back just as softly. “I’d really like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

And Derek should say no, he knows there’s no point in this, it’ll just make things worse, but he nods. “Okay.”

Stiles steps closer, cupping his cheek, and presses their mouths together right as everyone shouts  _four, THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

Stiles pulls back, his brown eyes sad. “Happy New Year, Derek. I hope it’s a good one.”

Then, all Derek can do is stand there, watching Stiles walk away and fighting the ridiculous urge to cry.

\-----

_Seven Months Later_

July in Beacon Hills is more beautiful than Derek remembers.

It’s hot as hell, but the earth is alive, the air thick with the smell of life and the sound of laughter.

Derek drives up to the Inn, stomach in his throat when he sees Stiles look up from the flowerbed he’s weeding. Derek gets out of the car and they stare at each other.

Stiles looks even better than he did in December and Derek isn’t sure if it’s because he’s already sun-kissed and warm looking or if it’s just because he’s Stiles.

“Congrats on your graduation,” Stiles offers after a moment, his dirt-covered hands clenching slightly on his thighs.

“Thanks.”

Stiles nods, turning his attention back to his work.

Derek clears his throat, shuffling from foot to foot.

Stiles stops, looking at Derek expectantly. When he’s silent, Stiles sighs. “Derek, I need to get back to work. So if you have something to say, say it.”

“I was going to tell you,” he blurts out, “about the job. But it just never came up and… then it just made it easier not to say anything.”

“Well, avoiding your problems has worked pretty well for you in the past, so,” Stiles shrugs, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“I know. I thought I wanted the job, I really did. But when I got there,” he shakes his head, “it didn’t feel right.”

“And?”

“And I quit.” He laughs, still a little amazed at his actions. “I literally lasted less than two hours. I sat there and… and just couldn’t do it.”

Stiles studies him, brow furrowed. “So now what?”

“I’m, uh, I’m moving back.”

Stiles nods, standing and dusting off his shorts. “So if I asked you on a date, you would say…?”

“I would say… let me finish unpacking, so I can wash my clothes before we go out.”

Stiles smiles, stepping in close and pausing inches away. “That’s a good answer.”

Derek smirks, putting his hands on Stiles’ hips. “I thought you might like it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this!
> 
> Let me know!
> 
> kisskiss  
> ♡ Scotch


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